The Wicked Born

Chapter 11

"Absolutely not," Tabitha snarled at Dacre, her blood temperature skyrocketing in tandem with her quickly-rising anger. She attempted to assuage her fury, but watching Laurel cower behind Dacre's built form only served to piss her off further. She never liked a girl that had to hide behind a man, regardless of what she was hiding from. "She'll only slow us down."

"And he won't?" Dacre's voice was crudely sarcastic as he jerked his head in Ellias' direction, his hair swinging just above his eyes. Tabitha clenched her fist to keep herself from brushing it back. Laurel winced further away at the sight of Tabitha's white knuckles.

He'd arrived only minutes before they were set to leave for the castle, not having come back to their room at the inn the entire night. She was half worried and half pissed at him for that alone, only to realize that he had Laurel in tow whenever he did show. He seemed to have it in his mind that there would be room for the girl in the quest of theirs. Tabitha didn't think so.

"Ellias serves a purpose." Tabitha was trying with all of her might to keep her cool, but her innate impulse to go into a wrathful state at the first sign of annoyance was threatening to overtake her common sense at any point. The witch forced herself to drawl in a deep breath before continuing in the most reasonably calm voice that she could muster. "He has contacts inside of the castle, the ability to find out about Bexley's location at any given point, and he's also a warlock. I may be the red witch, but I'm only one. We're going to need all of the extra power we can manage, especially if the King has Felaria extract hidden away."

Dacre furrowed his eyebrows together, confusion etched in every line of his face. Tabitha would have found the fact that his face so easily gave away what he was thinking endearing if she wasn't ready to rip his head clean off of his shoulders. His full lips pulled downward as he considered her rationale. "Felaria extract? Am I supposed to know what that is?"

Tabitha was saved from having to explain by Ellias' arrival to the conversation. Good thing, too. Dacre's incessant questions were beginning to walk over her thinly-iced patience. "Have you ever wondered why witches are practically unheard of in the southern continent?" Ellias' deep voice carried the torch of the conversation with ease, a small smile formed on his golden-brown features as he accounted for the missing pieces. The dark Mark etched on the back of the warlock's neck glistened with sweat. "There's a flower that grows there: Felaria. People have been able to extract a certain liquid from its roots that can drop a witch or a warlock just from contact with it. Find a way to get it in the blood stream and the lucky ones die instantly. The unlucky ones, well..." His voice trailed off before he was able to find the right words once more. "Let's just say that they're left writhing on the ground for hours in pure agony before they're finally put out of their misery. It's one of the few checks against our power that the gods have given you small, small mortals." Ellias flung her a sultry grin that would have made any normal woman get weak in the knees. It simply made Tabitha roll her eyes.

A cold, bone-rattling chill ran down her spine as she remembered the effect that such a simple liquid had on one of her fellow witches when she was still in the Demetrian coven. The witch was younger than Tabitha by two years and she'd been the only witch at the coven that attempted to engage Tabitha in conversation. She was sweet to the red witch, rationing her deserts to share with her newfound friend. She was only 14 years old when she'd been cornered in a town and doused with the Felaria extract. Her face had never quite recovered from the attack, red scarred tissue pockmarking the skin where her beautifully intricate green Mark used to be. Tabitha had saw to it that the offending parties were dealt with in her own form of wrathful retribution. They were still alive, but the red witch had ensured that her predatory grin was the last vision they'd ever have before she ripped their eyes right from their sockets.